


Hartwin/00Q tumblr collection

by Myoneloveismusic, what_a_dork_fish



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: AU, Angst, Domestic, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, THESE ARE ALL SO SHORT ;n;, Tags Are Hard, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-08-21 21:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 14,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8261471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myoneloveismusic/pseuds/Myoneloveismusic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: Some of my mini-fics, drabbles, and prompts from my tumblr, speaking-of-tailors.





	1. Hartwin 01 Runaways

Harry and Eggsy run away together.

...to the flat a few doors down.

* * *

 

It’s been six months since Eggsy had quietly up and left and Michelle still has an emptiness in her heart where her little boy had been. Dean says constantly that it’s for the best, that he’s never liked the little bugger anyway, that Michelle needs to at least rent out Eggsy’s old room and get some money that way (because the lease has always been and always will be in her name). Michelle refuses every time.

It’s been three days since Daisy finally said her first words: “Don’t cry,” she’d told her mother, visibly upset, after Dean had slapped Michelle and stormed out of the flat for no reason she could see. “Don’t cry, mummy.”

It’s been an hour since Michelle saw someone going into the flat a few doors down that looks suspiciously like her son.

She paces the length of the flat, thinking hard, fidgeting with her wedding ring. She’s been fidgeting with it a lot. She keeps having the urge to take it off and chuck it somewhere it can never be found again, and run away with Daisy; to Blackpool, to Stratford, to anywhere.

_But she saw her son._

Finally, she gets up the courage to dress Daisy warmly (it’s still a little nippy out), put on her jacket, and go down to the door she’d seen Eggsy enter. She cuddles Daisy close, and rings the bell.

The door is opened almost at once, and it _is_ Eggsy, it _is_ her baby boy, and she lets out a little sob and reaches for him.

(Later she will remember how his face had gone from excited and welcoming to shocked and uneasy; later she will remember his hesitancy in returning the hug. But that’s later. This is now.)

“Mum, I didn’t expect–I thought you was–”

“Oh god, babe!” Michelle is crying and she doesn’t care. “Six months! Six months, you never told me where you were, what happened–I thought you were dead or worse!”

Daisy is bouncing in Michelle’s arms, reaching for her brother, laughing excitedly. Eggsy takes her before she falls, and pulls his mother gently inside.

The flat is… odd. It’s the same layout as Michelle’s, but the furniture couldn’t be more different. There are full bookshelves, for one, and no tv; the computer desk is sleek wood and metal, an expensive piece, not something bought at a discount store. The walls around the desk and the back wall are covered in The Sun covers. The two armchairs and one sofa are leather and look extremely comfortable. A glimpse through the door shows a richly appointed bedroom. This place is beautiful and comfortable; but Michelle doesn’t care.

“What happened?” she demands.

Eggsy sighs, rubbing his little sister’s back. “It’s a long story. Have a seat, mum.”

“You won’t leave nothin’ out?”

“Not a thing.”

So Michelle sits on the sofa, and Eggsy sits with her, and begins to explain.

It had been a whirlwind romance. It started as flirtations at a bar; it had escalated in three days to sex at a fancy hotel. It would have been sooner, but Eggsy’s new partner had wanted to wait, to know for sure that this was what Eggsy wanted.

The little packages and presents Eggsy had been receiving the last two months he’d been home? Yeah, those were from his partner. A proper gent, who wanted to properly court Eggsy. But money and presents and late dinners and new clothes are all material. Eggsy’s eyes and face and voice go soft and affectionate as he describes going on dates and _talking_ , just _talking_ , for hours on end. Thankfully, he does not go into detail about the sex, only commenting that it’s wonderful and plentiful and it’s not all he cares about. But the more he talks, praising his lover, the more Michelle sees it: Eggsy is completely in love.

“He wanted me to move in with him,” Eggsy explains, “But I didn’t really want to leave you and Dais. So we compromised.”

“And you didn’t send word or tell me or anything,” Michelle adds bitterly. She can’t help being bitter. Knowing her only son hadn’t told her, hadn’t trusted her… “I wouldn’t have told Him. You know I wouldn’t’ve.”

“I didn’t know that, mum,” Eggsy replies softly, not looking at Michelle. “Not then. And… and we’re trying to keep quiet about this to his boss, too. We couldn’t–can’t–tell anyone.”

The hole in Michelle’s heart grows. But she can’t say anything about it. So instead she takes a deep, shuddering breath, and asks, “When do I meet him?”

Eggsy’s eyes widen, and he looks at her in alarm. “Meet… him?” he repeats weakly.

“Yes. I need to know who’s–” got her boy on such a tight leash “–so special to you.”

“He’ll be home any minute now. You… you can meet him then.”


	2. 00Q 01 Pining

James had known that Q liked him, but then Q had gotten over it. Now they were purely comrades on both sides, no mixed feelings or softness or timid devotion. None of that. Strictly Quartermaster and agent 007. Yes sir.

Until James started noticing things.

Little things, nonessential things to know. Like the exact way Q makes his tea. Like the way he hums Bach under his breath when he’s happy. Like the tiny frown and murmured encouragements when his precious inventions start acting up. Like how he leans to the left when he’s been standing for too long, as if his right leg pains him. Like how his face lights up with relief when an agent makes it through a tricky situation, before he shutters it again behind a calm expression and bland tone.

James told himself it was because that was James’ job as an agent, that he was just picking up on things because that’s what he’d been trained to do. Then he noticed little things he himself did; made tea the exact way Q likes it, bought him a CD set of Bach’s entire works for the company Christmas Secret Santa (which somehow Q didn’t have), searched Q’s files to find out what had caused his leg injury. It had been a fractured kneecap, while learning to ice skate. James purchased an impressively slim knee-brace that wouldn’t show under those hideous slacks, but would provide excellent support, and left it wrapped neatly in plain brown paper on Q’s chair in his office, with no notes and leaving no fingerprints.

“He’s not going to shag you,” Eve told Jame severely one day.

“I never said I wanted a shag!” James retorted, outraged. He’d never have sex with the Quartermaster! That would just ruin everything.

It wasn’t until he’d gone away and thought about it that he realized why Eve had made that comment.

James was pining.

* * *

 

James thought about his… admiration… for several days. He stayed out of Q-branch unless necessary, and policed his actions and speech so tightly that others began to notice. Even Q.

“What’s wrong?” Q asked him one day, with the same frown he wore when his equipment malfunctioned. “You haven’t flirted with R in weeks. You haven’t even asked for a new car.”

James shrugged, murmured something graceful, and escaped.

Eve came for him next, while James was getting very drunk at a nearby pub. “Playing hard to get won’t make him like you,” she informed James bluntly.

“I’m not playing hard to get!” James snarled. “I’m _trying_ to get over him!”

Many interested ears turned their way. Eve glanced around, sighed, and plopped down across from James, pulling his mug away and taking a swig herself. James scowled at the table.

“Okay,” Eve said finally. “You honestly, truly didn’t know that you wanted him. And now that you do know, you’re scared of it. Is that right?”

James nodded without looking up.

“Okay. And you know he isn’t interested?”

James nodded again.

“Good.” Eve took another pull at James’ beer. “I’m not helping you with this, Bond. I’m done helping with impossible tasks.”

“I don’t want help,” James grumbled. “I just…” And he felt the anger drain away, leaving him cold and empty and sad. Not the kind of sad that seeped into his bones when someone he cared for died, and not the kind of sad that came with killing yet another defenseless idiot; the kind of sad that made his throat close up and his stomach twist and his face turn absolutely miserable.

Eve flinched. “Oh god, you really are gone on him.” Then she sighed and said sternly, “You had better tell him, or I’ll do it. You can’t just mope about and hope he doesn’t notice.”

“I know,” James murmured.


	3. Hartwin 02 Uniform

What if Harry asks to see Eggsy in his old Marines uniform?

You know, out of curiosity. _Actual_ curiosity. He just wants to see how much like his father he looks. Or maybe he’s just heard so much about “Boys in suit and uniforms are soooo cute!!!” that he’s curious to find out if that’s true. He knows Eggsy’s handsome in a suit, and he was utterly adorable in his Kingsman uniform, but what about military looks?

Eggsy… does not see it that way.

He’s surprised that Harry has a thing for uniforms, but not extremely. So he digs out his old uniform, and is delighted that it still fits. He even puts on his hat and best boots. And throughout all of this, he’s wondering if Harry wants a striptease or roleplay or what, because he’s down for pretty much anything. Mum and Daisy are on vacation for the weekend; why not have fun?

He clears his throat in the doorway so Harry looks up, and gives his very best salute. “Unwin reporting, sir!” he barks, grinning.

And instead of smiling back, Harry’s face goes blank, and his eyes are shadowed. Eggsy’s grin is uncertain now. What’s wrong?

“You look exactly like your father,” Harry says softly.

Eggsy looks down at himself. Really? He feels like he should be pleased, but he’s not. He’s just disappointed.

Until he realizes Harry’s stood up and crossed the room, and then he turns up his face and accepts a kiss.

But he isn’t going to forget Harry’s face when he’d said that.


	4. 00Q 02: Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is actually by me and my love MOLIM but it was fun and I like it.

AU where Q is secretly a fallen angel whose corporeal wings are removed, but huge wing-shapes are branded into his back, and Bond finds out somehow and gets _so pissed_ because he thinks someone tortured Q and he won’t listen to Q’s weak insisting that it’s fine, it’s nothing, really Bond he’s fine.

 

 

At first, Q just doesn’t understand why Bond is so angry. Doesn’t understand where his thoughts went. Bond just keeps repeating over and over, “Who did this? Who did this to you?” And Q just stares at him trying to come with some sort of excuse because he can’t exactly say reveal everything about angels and heaven for fear of Bond thinking he’s insane.

 

 

Bond doesn’t let up, not even after several months; he’s still trying to hunt down Q’s dossier, dig up all he can, find whoever did this. And Q has to thwart him again and again, even though it hurts, even though he wants to tell him so he’ll stop worrying himself to flinders, because he’s terrified of what will happen. What the other angels will say. What they’ll do.

Q is always anxious on Bond’s behalf, but this… this scares him.

 

 

Once the angels start to take notice, they send Q a warning. That if he doesn’t do something to put a stop to Bond they’ll have to take it into their own hands. Q becomes even more worried. Angel punishments are bad enough if you’re an angel, but for a human…he didn’t know what they’d end up putting him through.  
  
After his latest attempt at trying to throw Bond off his trail, Q is a wreck. It’s the middle of the day and he becomes short with everyone. He snaps at them and throws things. He gets frustrated and locks himself in his office because somehow during all of this he started to care about Bond and he doesn’t know how to handle it all.

 

 

“You have to stop.”

Bond wants to glare, but he can’t. Not when Q looks ten different kinds of distressed and like he hasn’t slept in three months.

“I want to help,” he grumbles instead.

“You can’t. Nothing and nobody can. It’s _over_ , Bond. They can’t touch me anymore.” A blatant lie. He’s twisting his fingers together, like he always does when he’s lying. “They can’t get to me, but they can get to you, and I can’t let that happen.” The fingers have stilled, but his face is still pained, and for a moment…

But Bond refuses to let it slide.

“You’re lying. I _can_ help. Q, please let me help you. I’ll wring their bloody necks for hurting you, I’ll–”

“STOP IT!”

 

 

Bond looks speechless for a few moments and Q thinks he’s finally manged to convince him to let this whole thing drop.  
  
“I can’t,” he whispers, staring intently at Q.  
  
Q can feel his frustration and hurt and anger rise up completely. He tries to push it back down and keep it from slipping out, but can’t stop the words from tumbling out.  
  
“WHY DO YOU CARE?!” he shouts, tugging at his black locks. Q feels the tears pressing at the back of his eyes, adding to his frustration. Nowadays he always got emotional when it came to Bond.  
  
“Please…just stop,” he pleads as the tears fall silently down his cheeks.

 

 

Bond walks over slowly, carefully, as if Q is a frightened animal, and cups Q’s face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

“I care because I do,” Bond answers lowly. “I care about _you_ , Q. Christ, why can’t you see that? And I can’t stop. They hurt my Quartermaster. I need to find them and _hurt them back_.”

Q stares at him, bewildered. His eyes are reddened now from weeping, not just lack of sleep. And then despair wells up in him, and he sags, only just catching himself on the edge of the desk.

“Now you’ve done it,” he whispers. “They’ll come after you no matter what.”

“Let them come,” Bond replies grimly.

 

 

Q doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to think about what’s coming next. So instead, his brain latches on to Bond’s words.  
  
“What do you mean you care about me? What do you mean I’m yours?” he asked, bewildered, clutching at Bond’s shirt.  
  
“I mean exactly what I said.” With those words, Bond caressed his cheeks and leaned in, finally bringing their lips together in a gentle and loving kiss.  
  
When he finally pulled away, Q stared at him for a few moments, stunned. His thoughts started racing at a furious pace. Finding his resolve, he takes Bond’s hand in his own and pulls him to the door.  
  
“Q…what…?” Bond asks, bewildered.  
  
“Come on,” he looks up at Bond intently, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “If you’re going to be taking on angels, we have work to do.”


	5. Hartwin 03: War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if eggsyvnwin has an AO3 but they wrote a continuation for this and I just. I love it so much.

1910s Hartwin AU where Eggsy, the village baker’s stepson, and the lord of the manor, Mr. Hart, are in a clandestine relationship, but as soon as the war breaks out Eggsy’s off like a shot to join up with the navy, and the whole village is shocked when Mr. Hart himself goes and drags Eggsy back home, lecturing him about how he hurt and frightened his mother and made his stepfather so angry he actually got in a brawl down at the village pub and how Harry can’t bear to see Eggsy die in the trenches.

(”I don’t care if I die, as long as I take out as many of those bastards as I can!” Eggsy snarls.

Harry just looks at him with pained eyes and a terribly sad expression, until Eggsy looks away.)

But there’s nothing Harry can do, no strings he can pull, when conscription comes and Eggsy joins up eagerly. So he watches his young love go out to get killed, murdered, butchered, and goes down to the village to meet with Eggsy’s mother and inform her that no matter what happens, Harry will do what he can to bring Eggsy home alive, and failing that, he’ll be the Baker family’s patron and protector until the day Harry dies.

When Michelle demands to know why, Harry wordlessly hands her some of the love-letters Eggsy had sent Harry, back in the beginning, when they were both pining and anxious and guarded.

(”How long?” Michelle whispers.

“Since his twentieth,” Harry answers softly. “I love him. I swear I do. Which is why I will do whatever I can to make sure he comes home.”)

When conscription age is raised, Harry follows Eggsy.

  
[ ](https://tmblr.co/mu_SZyV8ryPIPwvuUr8n4aQ) [eggsyvnwin](http://eggsyvnwin.tumblr.com/post/148571223680)

“The new troops will be here shortly,” the general said, dismissing them all with a curt nod of his head. Eggsy relaxed immediately, the crick in his neck that was forming for the past couple of days building up to become something unbearable. He blamed it on those terrible army cots.

“Oi, Eggsy,” called out Jamal, his recently new brother-in-arms. They had joined together, meeting by chance in the examination room when Jamal was being questioned about his race and authenticity and Eggsy had shouldered his way in, telling the examiners to fuck off and let him fight for his country. “Let’s grab some grub, eh?” They’d been best friends ever since.

They met up with Ryan, a bloke that they met once they got into camp and immediately, the three of them hit it off and became an infamous trio of jokes and camaraderie in the camp. They were the only ones to ever call him Eggsy rather than ‘Unwin’.

He trusted them enough to even tell them about his secret relationship with the Lord of the Manor back home. They were shocked, unwilling to believe, but when he pulled out a few love letters that he had brought with him to war from Harry, they were ridiculously happy for him.

Speaking of which, he stood up after a few minutes of dinner. “Aight lads, I’ve got to write.”

“To the man back at home?” Jamal said with a cheeky grin. Eggsy didn’t care anymore and instead nodded, leaving the mess hall to go back to their designated sleeping area.

Propped on his bed and with pen in his hand, he swore loudly when he heard the general shout once more. “Fucking hell,” he sighed, tossing his things on the bed as he ducked out of the building. The new troops were here.

Lined up again, the soldiers watched as men hopped off of the truck, lining up in a similar fashion across from them. While the age range was becoming more diverse, it didn’t surprise them. They needed more people no matter what.

What _did_ surprise him, however, was the familiar flash of black-rimmed spectacles that caught his eye somewhere in the middle of the squad.

He fidgeted for god knows how long until instructions were tossed and barracks were assigned, and finally, _finally_ , they were dismissed. Immediately, his voice rang out.

“Harry!”

Some soldiers paused, others didn’t bother to give him a second glance, but everyone seemed to freeze when two men collided in the middle of the camp, arms wrapped around each other as tight as possible.

“What the _fucking hell_ are you doing here?” Eggsy swore, his words muffled into the uniform of the man he loved. “What the _fuck_?”

Harry couldn’t even speak, focused too intently on inhaling as much of Eggsy as he could, trying to make up for the lost months. When Eggsy finally pulled away, forcing him to look into his curious yet elated eyes, he couldn’t help but smile brilliantly in relief.

“I told you,” he said warmly, ignoring the whispers of the men around him and the loud hoots that contrasted their sentimental moment. “I’ll do anything it takes to make sure you come home alive.”


	6. 00Q 03: Daydream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this based on this drawing: http://fishnbacon.tumblr.com/post/37083198330/yeah-right-james-you-wish

_“Bond?”_

_“Yes?”_

_Q is looking especially soft and pretty, with his long ‘lashes and pink lips and fluffy hair. Bond feels a stirring below his belt. He isn’t even ashamed, as he usually is._

_“Why are you in my house?” There is no sharpness, no edge, as there should be. Then again, Bond shouldn’t be lazing on Q’s couch. But he’s here, and he’s here for a reason._

_So he stands, walks over, and kisses Q. He likes not having to bend to do so. Mmm, Q tastes good. Like Earl Grey tea and coconut biscuits. His lips are soft and smooth, his tongue is polite. He smells nice, too, a mix of tea and coconut and something floral from his hair. Bond could kiss him forever and ever._

_Q breaks away gently. “You need a bath,” he declares, wrinkling his delicate nose._

_“Will you join me?” Bond asks with a roguish smile._

“Excuse me, 007, but you are in my seat.”

Bond jerked into full awareness, the daydream dissipating like fog. The taste of coconut was still in his mouth, but gone were the plush lips, the warm return. He looked up at Q and tried to smirk nonchalantly. “I do apologize,” he said smoothly, standing and doing his best to hide his erection. Thankfully, Q was glaring at his face, not his trousers. “I was simply waiting to—“

“To return your equipment, yes, I know,” Q brushed him off, already looking to his computers. “Thank you very much, 007. You will be debriefed later. Goodbye.”

Bond left the office, and Q’s comfortable chair, feeling rather confused. Was something wrong? Had something come up? Why was impatient, uncaring Q just as arousing as calf-eyes Q? Not that he’d actually seen Q make calf-eyes at anyone. But the idea made him want to do numerous exciting things to or with Q.

This was too much. He had to finish that daydream. So he nipped on down to the agents’ locker room, which was empty, claimed the farthest toilet stall, and slipped his hand in his pants.

_“Will you join me?”_

_“Well, I don’t know,” Q murmurs, lowering his eyes to Bond’s exposed chest. “If you want me to.”_

_“I do.”_

_Fast-forward. The two of them are naked and kissing while they wait for the tub to fill. Bond has Q pressed up against the counter, feeling every line of his body—smooth and unresisting, flushed at his touch, trembling slightly, his cock so rock hard—and his mouth is so beautifully soft and flavorful. It just isn’t_ fair _._

_The bath is full. Bond doesn’t know how—it’s dream logic, he doesn’t question it—but there are rose petals in the water, scenting the air with a light floral tone that matches the smell from Q’s hair._

_“You wash with roses often?” he mutters against Q’s neck._

_“Only when I have company,” Q murmurs back, and gasps most invitingly as Bond bites him gently._

_Somehow they make it to the tub, and climb in together, Q fitting neatly between Bond’s legs. Another kiss; yes, yes, more of that sweet, beautiful mouth, more of that cunning tongue, more of those glorious moans—_

“Christ!” Bond grunted, and came all over himself.


	7. Not-Hartwin: Explode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This did not follow the prompt exactly. I am so sorry in advance.

Prompt: "Eggsy returns from this mission from some other country with a gift for his small Daisy & he's at the party, celebrating with all the people he loves (Harry, to name the ones) & he gives the gift to Daisy but when she plays with it Eggsy immediately knows there's something wrong & before anyone could think Eggs takes the toy and uses his body to absorb most of da explosion. I need Harry's heart to be utterly killed."

 

* * *

 

“Just my luck. Of _course_ this had to happen today.”

Eggsy glared balefully at the ripped cardboard box before him. It had been damaged in customs and nobody had explained why. Well, there was nothing for it, he’d just have to find a different box when he got home. And hope to god Daisy’s present was unharmed.

It was a puzzle-box from Japan, his latest mission, and inside he’d hidden some sweets and tiny porcelain lucky cats. She was only seven, but christ she was smart. She’d have this figured out in an hour at most.

Eggsy smiled, thinking of his baby sister, as he collected the box and tramped out to the taxi. She was growing up so well, since Mum left Dean. She’d taken to Harry almost immediately, which had broken that horrible iced brick wall that had come up between Harry and Eggsy while the former had been gone, presumed dead. Dais had brought them together again. His little flower had helped…

Oh god, he was getting sentimental again. He scowled ferociously and focused on the mission report he had to write when he got home.

Once divulged from the taxi and inside, he sneaked up to his and Harry’s room (another barrier crossed just days ago) and set about looking for wrapping paper. He decided against another box; he was careful not to jostle it though, and made sure to write FRAGILE on the paper in big block lettering. Daisy would heed it. She was a smart little girl.

This was not her actual birthday. That day had been filled with Daisy’s friends, children her age, playing games and eating sweets. Daisy had insisted on a second birthday with her “famwy”, meaning Eggsy’s friends and some coworkers. It was touching, if alarming, that his dear baby sister counted some of the most dangerous people in England as her family.  
  
Eggsy snuck downstairs again and tucked the puzzle box in with the other presents he and Harry had received from agents who couldn’t make it, but still wanted to bribe the little flower and gain her favor. That always made Eggsy smile.

~

Three agents were in London, and even though Eggsy was only cordial with them, they had met Daisy and been so charmed by her bluntness and intelligence that they asked to be at her party. Harry was the one to tell Eggsy, who frowned but nodded cautiously. He didn’t trust them, any of them; but if trouble started, it would be Eggsy, Roxy, and Merlin against three. They could do it. Hadn’t they done so in the past?

No, he was dwelling too much. He had to catch Daisy and make her stay still long enough to greet her guests. 

Roxy came first, and smiled widely as soon as Daisy burst into a torrent of words for her Aunt Rox. She got three hugs in quick succession.

Ryan and Jamal arrived together, holding each other’s sleeves in a deathgrip. They’d never hold hands–they weren’t like _that_ –but god damn it they weren’t going to lose each other like they had during V-Day. They both grinned, and Jamal let go of Ryan to pick Daisy up and hug her as she turned her laughing smile on them.

Dean showed up for all of three seconds, appearing on the doorstep to hand Eggsy a box and then running away as fast as possible.

Of course Eggsy went to Daisy and asked, “Is it alright if Harry and I made sure this present is okay?” When Daisy nodded, wide-eyed and cautious (she’d been standing behind Eggsy when he’d opened the door and then run back to her mummy when she realized who it was), Eggsy and Harry went in the next room and opened the bag, removing paper carefully, until they could get to the toy, which happened to be a hand-carved wooden puppy. It was rough, but clear in its shape, and absolutely solid, with no nasty hidden surprises. Eggsy replaced the puppy in the bag and Harry tucked the paper in around it.

The other agents arrived within minutes of each other, each with a gift. Only when everyone was settled in the sitting room did Daisy put her hands on her hips, look around at them all, and then cheered, “PRESENTS TIME!”

Everyone laughed, but leaned forward in their seats and watched her tear into the pile of gifts. Her genuine excitement and appreciation rubbed off on them all; although that might have been the alcohol too.

Finally she got to Eggsy’s present and shook it, her face lighting up as she heard a heavy rattle inside.

Heavy rattle…?

There was no time. Eggsy dove, grabbed the box, shoved Daisy away, curled around the box–

Only just in time.


	8. Hartwin 04: Cold

Prompt: The old favourite of giving someone your jacket when their cold.

* * *

 

Harry won’t admit it, but he’s chilly. No, not chilly–he’s _freezing_.

It’s amazing, and not in a good way. Before, he’d never been cold. He’d never been too hot, either. But now that he’s home–he changes with the weather, and that annoys him. Eggsy seems fine, though. “Seems” being the keyword; just because he’s bundled in a coat three sizes too big, with a bulky jumper under that, and a cardigan under _that_ , doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the cold.

“You okay, Geoff?”

Harry completed his contemplation, and turned back to Eggsy. “I’m fine, Henry,” he replied smoothly. “Are you sure we aren’t lost?”

‘Henry’ rolled his eyes. “I’m sure. Seriously, bruv, you look pretty miserable.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” ‘Geoff’ repeated, with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. A snowflake swirled under his collar and he shivered.

That was all the invitation Eggsy needed. He shrugged off his jacket, and, before Harry could flinch away, draped it over Harry’s shoulders. He grinned as Harry glared, but automatically pulled the coat closer. It was too big on Eggsy, but fit Harry quite nicely.

“There. Better?”

Harry grumbled, but eventually something positive got out. Eggsy waited until he’d (grudgingly) put his arms through the sleeves, then took his hand.

“Help me out, love. I’m lost.”


	9. Hartwin 05: Cuddle

 

Prompt: fluffy Hartwin cuddles

* * *

 

Snow on the windowsill. Wet coat and scarf hanging from the peg. Slushy boots set neatly in the tray. Gloves placed on the hall-table.

Glass tumbler of amber liquid, set next to a steaming mug of tea. An abandoned cushion-and-blanket-fort, reoccupied. Crackling fire.

Eggsy grinned smugly from the doorway, looking between the sitting room and the hall. So. Harry had gotten his text after all. He wasn’t sure when he hadn’t answered…

“Get in here, you idiot,” a calm voice spoke from the fort.

Eggsy bounced over, snatching the two drinks off the sidetable before crawling into the fort he and Daisy had made earlier. He had to be very careful; there was barely enough room for the two grown men, and both drinks were full. Harry, already wrapped in a quilt so completely as to be swaddled except for his arms, took the mug and drank carefully. Eggsy curled up beside him, wrapped another blanket around his own shoulders, and sipped his whiskey.

“You and Daisy did an excellent job,” Harry commented, slipping his arm around Eggsy’s waist. “It’s quite cozy in here.”

“Mm.” Eggsy closed his eyes and basked in Harry’s warmth. “Dais designed it, I just helped build it.”

“Are you cold?”

“Not anymore.”

“You’re shivering.”

Eggsy blinked his eyes open. Oh. He was. Why? Well…

“I missed you,” he mumbled.

Harry sighed and kissed his temple. “It was only three days, my love.”

“Yeah, but… this time I, I _missed_ you. I wasn’t even scared, I just _missed_ you so much–” Eggsy craned his neck to meet Harry’s surprised gaze and let out a short exasperated huff. “Didn’t you miss me?”

“Dreadfully,” Harry answered, and kissed him softly.

Eggsy wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and pressed his face against Harry’s shoulder. Harry hugged back, careful of his mug of tea. They sat in the blanket-fort for another hour or so, cuddled together. Long enough for the last bit of slush to melt off the boots, and the scarf and coat to dry.

The snow continued to fall. But neither man cared.


	10. 00Q 04: Ice Cream

Prompt: this imagine-- http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post/86594774036/imagine-your-otp-going-grocery-shopping-and

* * *

 

“What the hell is this? Moose Tracks?”

“It’s delicious is what it is,” Q replied, and plucked the carton from Bond’s hands to deposit it back in the shopping trolley.

“Why can’t we just get plain chocolate?” Bond complained, “It’s so much cheaper. I thought we were on a budget.”

“There is nothing wrong with enjoying the finer things in life.” Q gazed with disdain at the array of plain chocolate ice creams. “And plain just tastes like cocoa and dirt.”

“Chocolate tastes like chocolate!” Bond snapped. “Adding fudge overwhelms the flavor of the ice cream.”

“Good. Fudge is much tastier. And there’s peanut butter, too; I know you like peanut butter.”

“You can’t sway me with peanuts.”

“Whoever knew you were so passionate about ice cream. We are not getting chocolate.”

“No more passionate than you. We’re getting chocolate.”

They continued to bicker for a good five minutes. Only when Q pointed out that it didn’t matter, it was probably melted anyway so they’d better buy it, did they look up and spot at least five people turning away with smirks on their faces. Q blushed and used his secret weapon, the stubborn, moody pout; Bond took one look and ceded immediately.

“Only because you’re my superior,” he grumbled.

Q kissed his cheek. “I love you too, James.”


	11. Hartwin 06: Theft

Prompt: Eggsy steals Harry's clothes a lot because they smell like Harry. Harry is fed up of his clothes being taken all the time (though secretly enjoys seeing Eggsy wear them) and so in revenge he stars wearing Eggsy's golden jacket thing (the adidas thing?)

* * *

 

“Stop stealing my clothes!” Harry snapped, exasperated.

Eggsy grinned and nuzzled the collar of the peacoat he’d “borrowed”. “But it smells nice,” he pretended to whine.

“You can’t take things just because they smell nice. Give it back.”

Eggsy quickly did up the buttons. “No.”

“You’re acting like a child,” Harry chided him sternly. “I need that for my cover today. Now give it.”

“No.”

~

“Hey! Where’s my yellow jacket?!”

Harry, snug in the over-sized black-and-yellow jacket for which Eggsy was searching, called back innocently, “Has your jacket gone missing, then?”

“Damn it, Harry, when I find–” Eggsy, in Harry’s favorite shirt and second-favorite tweed trousers, stomped into view, and stared. Harry pretended to be very interested in his book as he sat in his armchair with his feet towards the fire.

“…Why.”

“Because you stole mine first.”

“You look ridiculous.”

Harry sighed, set the book down, and patted his knee. “Come here.”

Eggsy readily crossed to him and sat in his lap, snuggled up against Harry’s chest. Harry smiled very slightly.

“When a person loves someone,” he began, and Eggsy rolled his eyes, “that love must include respect if it is to thrive. Respect means not taking your loved one’s suit just because you like the smell.”

“I respect you plenty.” Eggsy squirmed around so he could lean back against Harry’s shoulder. “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

Harry was silent for so long that Eggsy turned and narrowed his eyes at the older man, suspicious of the silence. Harry smiled a little and kissed him. “No,” he breathed. “Don’t. I like it. Some of the time.”

Eggsy grinned and kissed him back. “Same.”


	12. Hartwin 07: Nightmare

Prompt: Eggsy's first time spending the night at harry's and maybe the morning after.

* * *

 

Eggsy was, understandably, nervous.

Harry wasn’t, though. He was cool, calm, collected; aloof and alluring. Okay, maybe Eggsy had had a few too many drinks. It had taken a while to get the perfect martini, according to Harry’s specifications.

Now they were discussing proper attire and drinking highballers of all different kinds–”To get you used to them,” Harry explained. “You can’t drink straight on the job, it’ll go to your head and fuck up the mission.”

“You’re just trying to get me drunk,” Eggsy accused.

“Why would I do that?” Harry asked, seemingly genuinely surprised.

Many reasons passed through Eggsy’s mind, but he simply shook his head. “So, wait, what’s the difference between a fedora and a trilby?”

Harry explained again, patiently; he seemed to be more patient and kind the drunker he got, which was completely the opposite of Eggsy’s sloppy, shortened temper. But Eggsy was still nervous; and thus his temper never rose.

It was quite late in the morning when Harry suddenly sat up, rubbed his hands together, and said, “Alright, off you go.”

“Huh?” Eggsy said intelligently.

“Go shower. Clear your head a little. You can wear some of my old clothes, and then we will have a more in-depth discussion on proper dress for a gentleman. And _then_ you can sleep.”

Eggsy, who had been fighting yawns for the past hour, scowled. Then, as he stood, he thought of something, and asked, “What about _my_ things?”

Harry stood as well and looked down on him with an almost comically superior look. “They will be washed,” was all he said.

Eggsy nodded and escaped upstairs before he could start laughing.

The water was hot, the shampoo unscented, the soap nice and sudsy. Eggsy scrubbed everywhere, and when he finished, he turned the water to cold, and squeaked as the heat vanished in an instant. His fogginess and sleepiness dissipated instantly, and he stepped out of the shower with his teeth chattering and gooseprickles running rampant across his skin.

The towels were soft and warm, and he rubbed his face on one, just to feel it. It smelled like fabric softener and Harry.

He realized he was grinning.

When he flung open the bathroom door, towel wrapped firmly around his waist, there was a pile of clothing on the floor. He frowned–so he _wouldn’t_ get the chance to parade in front of Harry–and picked them up, retreating to the bathroom again to try them on. Surprisingly, they fit. Perhaps the hips were narrower, and everything was longer, but they fit.

He left the towel in the hamper and padded downstairs. Harry was pouring another drink, and when he looked up at Eggsy his face went very still.

“You clean up very well,” he said, with absolutely no inflection.

“Thanks,” Eggsy replied uncertainly.

“Your clothes are in the basket? Good. Come here. I’m going to teach you how to cook, and then how to eat.”

Eggsy frowned, but he _was_ hungry. It occurred to him that there was no need for him to shower and change clothing; but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that breakfast had been put off too long. His stomach was hurting, he was so hungry.

Breakfast was uneventful. This was disappointing. Eggsy wanted _something_  to happen–anything at all, just to shake up this sudden barrier that had descended between them like a guillotine. He should never have put on Harry’s clothes.

Harry sent him to bed after the short lesson on table manners. Eggsy sighed and rolled his eyes and almost– _almost_ –got a smile out of Harry, before he climbed the stairs and trudged to the guest room.

~

_something pinning him to the ground the ground that shook the ground that rumbled as the bright lights pierced the empty dark and the horn blew and he was screaming but he couldn’t wake up_

~

“Eggsy! _Eggsy_!”

He woke all at once with a gasp, and sat bolt upright, chest heaving. Noon. He’d only slept four hours. His heart was hammering, his chest felt broken and too small, he pulled his legs up tight and made sure there were no ropes, and then he realized Harry was standing over him.

“What the fuck was that?” Harry demanded.

Eggsy stared up at him, and all of a sudden he just… he felt so tired. So tired that his eyes began to sting, and his stomach churned.

“I think… I… I drank too much,” he sniffled.

Harry’s incredulous expression softened unexpectedly. Awkwardly, carefully, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Eggsy into his arms.

“I’m… sorry,” he said, and the words sounded rusty in his mouth.

Eggsy just nodded and rested his head against Harry’s shoulder.

He wasn’t nervous anymore.


	13. Hartwin 08: Cry

Prompt: "Everglow" by Coldplay.

* * *

 

It’s Eggsy’s thirty-seventh birthday. 

It’s been roughly a decade since he took the title of Galahad. The new Arthur dislikes him just as much as the old, but they have an uneasy truce. The table is still sparse, and Eggsy sees how much it hurts Merlin to look at those empty seats; Eggsy and Roxy can’t begin to understand.

Their pain is different.

Percival had been killed due to injuries sustained during V-Day. Roxy still drives over to Eggsy’s place occasionally, and they drink toasts to their fallen mentors. Roxy had watched Percival die slowly, coughing blood in his hospital bed, barely any staff left to help. Eggsy can’t imagine how that had felt. And Roxy has said before that she can’t imagine what Eggsy saw, either.

It’s his thirty-seventh birthday and he spends it alone, locked in the study, reading the headlines over and over as he drinks a martini.

It’s his thirty-seventh birthday and he wants someone with him.

Mum lives in the country now. She’s ill all the time, but that life agrees with her. Daisy visits, but she treats Eggsy like a stranger, and Eggsy doesn’t blame her. She’s eleven now.

Dean is… somewhere. Last Eggsy saw, he was peddling cocaine. He’d seen Eggsy and run.

Eggsy wants someone with him. He won’t say the name out loud… but he’ll think it, over and over again.

He looks at the chair behind the desk. He can just imagine the person he wants with him, sprawled in his eternal elegance, gazing sternly at Eggsy. Maybe he would say something about moping being ungentlemanly. About how Eggsy needed to get things done. About how Kingsmen don’t cry over their fallen comrades.

Had he cried, once? Had he cried for Eggsy’s father? How about before, for other agents?

But on this, Eggsy’s thirty-seventh, he finds himself smiling softly. Of course he had. He’s been reading old files, ancient paper ones, from before Merlin was Merlin; and there he had found notes on Harry. Soft-hearted Harry. Harry that the psych evaluators had said was unsuitable for spywork. Harry that…

Oh. Oh, no. Not again.

The glass falls from Eggsy’s nerveless fingers. He buries his face in his hands, and stands shivering, sniffling, biting hard on the sobs desperate to come out.

It is his thirty-seventh birthday.


	14. 00Q 05: Disbelief

Prompt: Q doesn't believe Bond loves him.

* * *

 

“Of course I love you.”

But he says it with a puzzled, exasperated look, as if he doesn’t know why Q keeps asking. Q decides not to explain. He doesn’t want James to be annoyed, not when he just got back. So he presses a little closer, and almost manages a smile when James kisses his forehead.

~

He isn’t “James” when they’re working, of course. He is simply 007. Q is supposed to think of him as just another agent. James himself told him, rather sharply, that they had to stay a secret. Q hadn’t argued. He’s almost ashamed of how eager he’d been to please, in the beginning.

He’s still eager. But he doesn’t think James is, not anymore.

Silly. That’s what Ja–007 would say. Q is being silly. He’s flinching at shadows that aren’t there. Of course 007 loves him–

But does he? Q frets over this as he fiddles with a new ‘scope for a rifle. Yes, that’s what he _says_ , but does he, really? When was the last time they made love instead of fucked? When was the last time they’d sat together and done anything other than drink and watch bad television? For Christ’s sake, they haven’t had more than twelve hours to themselves in four months.

He misses the beginning. He misses being drunk on James’ smile. He misses cooking morning-after breakfast together. He misses laughing at his cat’s antics along with James, finding something freshly funny with that gravelly chuckle beside him. He misses when James looked at him as if he were the only thing that mattered.

Now all it is, is hurried kisses, desperate fucking, tense nights together, because they never knew when James might be called away to his death. Who could love anyone in a situation like that?

Q can. Why doesn’t James?

Q buries his face in his hands, uncaring if anyone sees, and tries not to cry.


	15. 00Q 06: Search

Prompt: Bond goes missing during a mission and Q desperately tries to find him.

* * *

 

“Sir… maybe you should take a break.”

Q ignores the underling completely and continues typing commands into the five programs he has running. Two are trackers, one is a probability calculator, one is a CCTV scanner, and the last is the delivery system for the virus that 007 somehow managed not to plant before he got himself killed.

Not that he’s dead, of course. He never is; he’s like a bloody big cockroach that way. That’s why Q has trackers. They would tell him if–

A beep sounds. Silence slices through the room like a guillotine.

Q’s fingers pause in midair.

All life signs are flat.

~

He doesn’t stop, of course. He never stops.

It’s been a year and he’s still searching. He has a separate laptop that runs 24/7, scanning, tracking, sending signals and receiving nothing in return. He refuses to call the new agent “007″, instead calling him by last name. He is Quartermaster. He is allowed his little eccentricities.

When he has nothing else to do, he takes over the searches himself. He goes four days without sleeping, then crashes for twelve hours, before rising from the dead to begin the cycle anew. And always, always, every free moment, he watches.

~

It’s been two years and Q hasn’t given up.

Everyone is resigned to it. No one comments when he slips up and says things like “when 007 comes back” (everyone knows he doesn’t mean Harper). Some treat him cautiously, like he might be ‘unstable’, but his minions and colleagues take it in stride. They pity him, vaguely. Admire him, yes, fear him, absolutely–but they pity him too.

He knows they do, and he loathes them for it.

~

It’s been three years and Harper is dead.

This time, when he’s brought the new agent, he shakes her hand and addresses her as 007. There is an almost palpable wave of relief throughout Q Branch; their head is not still stuck in the past. He’s moved on now.

He still rarely sleeps, and the laptop is still running.


	16. Hartwin 09 Groceries

Prompt: Harry and Eggsy doing the weekly shop, what causes them to be banned for life?

* * *

 

It’s a normal day, if a spy’s life can ever be normal. Morning sex after three months apart had been fantastic, and now, pleasantly buzzed with remaining energy, Harry and Eggsy are grocery shopping.

They are dressed casually; Harry had finally relented and let Eggsy buy him a t-shirt and a leather jacket, but he refused jeans and shuddered at the mere idea of sneakers; so he’s wearing trousers off a clearance rack and dress shoes of an obscure brand from the shop Eggsy used to frequent. Eggsy is dressed nearly identical, except for the ripped jeans, hoodie, and Adidas. Eggsy feels good, being seen with Harry like this. And these items are easily cleaned and replaced.

Those qualities are soon to be put to the test.

They wander down the aisles, Eggsy pushing the trolley and ordering Harry to pick this or that off the shelves. He goes for bargain and quantity, not quality. Harry is no longer baffled, when he sees that the price of his groceries has decreased. They still allow themselves small indulgences, though.

Like pastries. They have finished their grocery run, and are now perusing the pastry section, eyeing prices and debating whether biscuits or scones would be better for tea.

And then, as a trio of teenagers passes by, one of them mutters venomously, “Puffs.”

It is not as bad as other things they have been called. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. No, instead, it makes both spies angry.

Harry goes rigid, affectionate annoyance disappearing beneath a stone mask. Eggsy actually growls under his breath; he can’t attack, not here, not now. But he can do something else.

Before Harry can stop him, Eggsy grabs a pie piled high with whipped cream, yanks off the plastic cover, and throws it as hard as he can. His aim is true; it hits the speaker in the back of the head, and he yelps as he flails and falls.

High, delighted laughter. “FOOD FIGHT!” a small child screams, and hurls a muffin at Eggsy.

And suddenly Eggsy is in the thick of a fight with the teenagers, throwing pies, scones, cupcakes, everything he can reach, as they scramble to return fire, and children whoop, adding to the aimless hail of food. People are shouting. Employees come running. The manager emerges, breathing fire.

When Eggsy and Harry are shoved out of the store, they just look at each other for a moment. They’re both covered in frosting, pastry crumbs, and pie filling, since Harry had given in and joined Eggsy. Eggsy himself suddenly reaches up, swipes his finger across Harry’s gooey cheek (blueberry pie, most of it smeared down his jaw and neck) and sticks the finger in his mouth. Then he begins to laugh.


	17. Hartwin 10 Tea

Prompt: Eggsy bringing harry his favorite tea at his office ('cause we all know how hard he works as arthur) and maybe some pastries and kissing his forhead, then waiting for him in the evening so they can head home together.

* * *

“Hello, dearest,” Harry murmured as Eggsy set another cup of tea by his elbow.

“Hey, babe.” Eggsy dropped a kiss on Harry’s bent head and settled into the chair before the desk. “How far are you?”

“Not very.” Harry slid another signed paper into his “out” box. “Feel free to help.”

Eggsy snorted. “No. I’m not getting mixed up in that dogshit,” he stated, as his hand crept out and grabbed a pile of papers from the “in” box.

Afternoon faded to evening, as Eggsy read out papers and Harry signed them. Neither of them would admit that Harry needed stronger glasses. Besides, Eggsy had a good voice, and Harry was tired.

Around six o’clock, Eggsy got up and left. Harry knew he’d be back, so he didn’t worry.

And, sure enough, barely fifteen minutes later, Eggsy returned with a mug of fortifying tea and a bakery bag that smelled overwhelmingly of chocolate and pastries. Harry’s head snapped up, and Eggsy laughed, kissing his forehead before handing over the bag.

They continued reading and writing, and at eight, Eggsy took away Harry’s pen and pulled him to his feet.

“Let’s go home,” he ordered, “You’re dead on your feet.”

Harry didn’t argue, just kissed him gently.


	18. Hartwin 11 School

 Prompt: I dearly love Daisy. How about baby's first day of school, and hartwin either dropping her off or picking her up~?

* * *

Daisy was seven when she learned the word “homophobe”, and she heard it from her teacher.

“I’m not a homophobe,” he said, earnest and anxious, “But I want you to know, if that man makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me.”

Daisy tipped her head to one side. “What does homophobe mean?” she asked.

“It means someone who doesn’t like your brother and that man.”

“Why do you keep calling my big bwuver “that man”? His name is Hawwy.”

“I thought Eggsy was your brother.”

“He is. They are married.” Daisy beamed at the stunned teacher. “So Hawwy is my bwuver too!”

“Oh,” the teacher said weakly.

Daisy decided not to tell Eggsy and Harry that she now knew that word.

Her first day went well. She was enthusiastic about learning, and was proud of her ability to write the whole alphabet, in big and small letters, and all the numbers, too. She made friends right away; it was a natural kind of charm, as Harry had often said, half in pride of Daisy, half teasing Eggsy. Daisy enjoyed recess most of all, though; there, she ran and jumped and beat all the most athletic children in their games. But she was so sweet and didn’t know what winning was, none of the other innocents felt their first pangs of jealousy.

The day ended. Daisy valiantly held in tears as she waved goodbye to her new friends. She was the last one waiting at the door, looking forlornly for the shiny black taxi that was always there to take her home. Had they forgotten her? Had they been called away again? Was mum up for driving today?

Just as her teacher stepped out and opened his mouth to say something sympathetic, Daisy gave a jubilant cry and darted out to the pavement, as the taxi slid to a smooth halt and both Harry and Eggsy slid out. Eggsy picked Daisy up and hugged her, laughing as she threw her little arms around his neck.

“Okay, okay, we missed you too, lil’ flower!” he chuckled, as Harry collected the backpack Daisy had let fall. “Did you have fun today?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Daisy bounced in his arms, and reached out for Harry, who took her hand and smiled to see her grinning so broadly. “It was vewy fun! Do I come back tomorrow?”

“Of course you do,” Harry answered, amused.

Daisy laughed.


	19. Merwin Sleep

 Prompt: it's a late night and Eggsy sings softly, hoping it'll help keep Merlin awake, but ends up making Merlin fall asleep.

 

* * *

“Stop that.”

Eggsy stopped rubbing Merlin’s bald head and instead leaned his chin on it, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s neck. “This is boring,” he complained. “Why do you do this?”

Merlin, who’d been up for about 76 hours and was desperately fighting his own boredom, which would put him right to sleep, scowled. “Because I have to,” he replied in clipped tones. “Stop leaning on me, I need to concentrate.”

Eggsy refused the urge to sigh dramatically.

It had been four hours since Eggsy had finished his last mission and come straight back here. He still smelled of foreign spices and dust and sunlight. (Merlin had given up trying to pretend indifference, at least in his own mind.) For all his whining, he had stayed here of his own free will. The bastard. He was distracting Merlin from Very Important Work.

Eggsy started humming. Merlin wasn’t sure what tune it was, but it was slow, and irritatingly soothing. And then Eggsy started singing and Merlin nearly knocked him over he sat up so fast.

“The storm is breaking, or so it seems,  
We’re too young to reason, too grown up to dream  
Now spring is turning your face to mine  
I can hear your laughter, I can see your smile  
Slave to loooove~”

“Don’t sing that!” Merlin hissed, and if he could blush, he would’ve. Eggsy grinned and hugged him a little tighter.

“Na na na na na,” he sang, softly, “Na na na na, slave to loooove~”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, bruv.”

So Merlin sat there, tense with embarrassment, finishing his coding, with Eggsy singing in his ear. It was quite pleasant, once he stopped trying to sing love-songs. Eventually his voice sank to a bare murmur, and he started rocking from side to side, almost unconsciously.

“What are you doing,” Merlin sighed in resignation.

“Keeping you awake.”

“It’s not working. Go away.”

“No.”

Eggsy continued singing, a strange medley, and Merlin tried very hard to keep his eyes open… but once he finished his program, he let out an irritated sigh, leaned his head back on Eggsy’s shoulder, and let himself drop all at once into sleep.

He didn’t even have time to see Eggsy blush.


	20. Hartwin 12 Story

 Prompt: Harry and Eggsy on the chairs near the fire in the shop. Harry is telling Eggsy a story about one of his old missions and Eggsy is enthralled, if a little tired (two missions in the last 48 hours) and as Harry is talking he doesn't mean to but he falls asleep to Harry's voice and Harry notices, sighs and just picks him up to take him home.

* * *

 

Outside there is rain and faint rumbles of thunder; but inside, the shop is warm and comfortable. There is a tailor on duty, humming to himself, politely ignoring the two by the fire.

Harry had been reminded by the storm of a mission, many years ago, when he was younger. And Eggsy, curled up on the sofa across from him, had asked about it. So now Harry is telling him.

“…hardly see, it was raining so hard. I nearly lost him. I sure as hell couldn’t hear him. But thankfully I’d managed to plant a tracker…”

Eggsy is listening, he swears; Harry is an excellent storyteller. And the story is fascinating. But Harry’s voice is so mellow, so calm and soothing, Eggsy finds his eyelids drooping.

“…goat had him by the leg. He–” Harry pauses, eyeing Eggsy thoughtfully. “Are you falling asleep on me?” he asks.

“No,” Eggsy mumbles, and raises his head with an effort. “Sorry. Just… that was a lot of running around yesterday. And the day before.”

Harry nods. “Where was I?” he murmurs. “Ah, yes. The goat had him by the leg, and while he was trying to dislodge it I managed to catch up…”

Eggsy sighs silently, luxuriating in the warmth of Harry’s voice. Eventually he stops hearing the words. Then, slowly, he stops hearing the voice altogether, as he falls asleep.

Harry pauses again, right at the climax of the fight, and sighs. Eggsy is breathing slow and deep, eyes shut tight, head pillowed on his arms and body twisted at a truly ridiculous angle on the sofa. But he always looks so soft when he’s asleep. So unlike how he is anywhere but safe at home.

Harry watches him for a moment longer. Then he stands and quietly pads over, carefully slipping his arms under Eggsy and lifting him; Eggsy grumbles in his sleep, but only wriggles to rearrange his arms before settling again, sighing deeply. Harry smiles down at him, softly.

“Goodnight, Dagonet,” he says to the tailor.

“Goodnight, sir,” Dagonet answers.

The rain has stopped.


	21. Hartwin 13 Sing

 Prompt: Eggsy sings to Harry. But only when they are alone. It makes Harry so happy to hear Eggsy sing, especially in bed and everything is soft and calm and the only sound is the rain tapping gently against the glass.

* * *

 

Eggsy is singing softly again as he plays with Harry’s hair. Harry settles a little more in Eggsy’s arms, turning his head to press his face against Eggsy’s throat. He likes being held very much, when it’s Eggsy doing the holding.

He’s not sure what Eggsy’s singing. It’s mixing with the sweet pattering rhythm of the rain, the soft whistle of the wind. Rainy days with nothing to do are always his favorite.

Peace reigns through this house. Daisy and Michelle are at a playdate–Michelle will probably be gossiping about her son and his boyfriend, and that is alright. Daisy is too young to care, and that is also alright. Harry is happy to have Eggsy all to himself, even if all they do is lie abed, Eggsy singing to Harry, who luxuriates in this experience.

“I’ll never know what made it so exciting,  
Why all at once my heart took flight,  
I only know when he began to dance with me  
I could have danced, danced, danced all night…”

“We haven’t danced in ages,” Harry murmurs, nuzzling Eggsy.

“We can fix that,” Eggsy replies, and untangles from Harry, scooting out of bed and ignoring Harry’s protest. Then Eggsy holds out his arms to Harry and grins. He looks so sweet, all rumpled and open and inviting, Harry has to follow his example, scooting over and standing, taking Eggsy’s hands. Without thinking, they settle into a waltz, Harry leading, as Eggsy continues singing, voice a little louder, a little sweeter.

“I’ll never know what made it so exciting,  
Why all at once my heart took flight,  
I only know when he began to dance with me  
I could have danced, danced, danced all night!”


	22. Hartwin 14 Kisses

Prompt: Harry loves giving Eggsy forehead kisses because Eggsy's face lights up when he does.

* * *

“You’re so transparent,” Harry murmurs, stroking Eggsy’s hair.

Eggsy tries to scowl, but his smile gets in the way. “Says you,” he retorts. “I’ve got it on good authority–”

“You mean your friends’ authorities. Not to be rude, but they couldn’t read anyone unless they were hit with a brick.”

“That _was_ pretty rude.”

Harry kissed his forehead again and Eggsy’s tiny frown melted into another smile.

~

Harry does it constantly. He does it when Eggsy is sad, when he’s angry, when he’s giddy; he does it to bring out that dazzling smile.

Michelle catches on quickly, but does and says nothing. Daisy notices too, and begins to do the same; when Hawwy kisses Egg, Daisy demands to kiss his forehead too. Soon it just becomes a Thing in the Unwin household (which Harry suspiciously never leaves). Eggsy tries to return the favor, but Harry and Michelle fend him off, Michelle laughing, Harry frowning.

“It’s my gift to you,” Harry explains shortly, and then kisses Eggsy all over his face until he laughs.

Daisy is just happy to have affection bestowed upon her every day.

And Eggsy is happy too. That’s all Harry wants; for Eggsy to be happy.


	23. Hartwin 15 Daisy's Date

Prompt: a Hartwin fic where Eggsy and Harry stake out Daisy's date. Merlin gets involved in this action somehow and looks up everything he can on the guy. And Roxy poses as a waiter.

* * *

“What’ve you got, ‘Lin?” Eggsy murmured, binoculars firmly glued to his face.

“Not much,” Merlin admitted. “Squeaky clean from what I can find. And stop calling me that.”

“Sorry, Mer-man.”

Harry snorted softly, adjusting his glasses. He was running a facial recognition on the young man sitting at an outdoor table at the little cafe, a calculating, suspicious look on his face. Eggsy understood. They were both very protective of Daisy.

And there she came, twisting the ring Eggsy had given her, nervously. She smiled to see her date, and put her hands in her pockets. Her date seemed surprised to see her in a well-fitted suit, complete with oxford shoes and boldly striped tie, but not disturbed. Good. Eggsy grudgingly rewarded him one point.

Roxy, dressed as a server, came out to take their order. Daisy frowned faintly, but Roxy with her hair down and curled and no glasses, in casual clothes, was nearly unrecognizable to someone who had only ever seen her dressed to the nines. She took their orders and whisked back inside.

“So… how’s your family?” Daisy’s date asked awkwardly. The mic Roxy had planted picked up both voices clearly.

“They’re fine,” Daisy replied quietly. “My brothers are leaving for their anniversary tour tomorrow.”

“Brothers, plural?” her date exclaimed. “I thought that that bean was your only brother.”

Daisy actually giggled, and Eggsy ground his teeth. “No, he’s my half-brother. He got married when I was little.”

Harry put his hand over Eggsy’s, possessively. Eggsy flashed him a grin. Glory, what a celebration _that_  had been.

They chattered for the first half hour about nothing in particular. It was good that Daisy’s date (Jack was his name) paid attention to her, and did not try to make the conversation all about himself. In turn, Daisy did not go off on her tangents that always inevitably reached theatre and such. Eggsy and mum had taught her well; she was just as big a fan of musicals as they.

She didn’t have to go out on a tangent, though. Jack said something about being in theatre when he was young, and Daisy pounced. Soon they were discussing animatedly whether Audrey Hepburn’s performance in My Fair Lady stood a chance against Julie Andrews. Eggsy found himself grinning proudly; Harry’s frown only deepened.

“He was caught shoplifting when he was ten,” Merlin offered heavily. “But it was only a pack of Pokemon cards. Let’s face it, he’s a good lad.”

“They’re certainly having fun,” Roxy murmured over the line. “Look at her smile. Ever seen something like that before?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, and leaned over to kiss Eggsy’s cheek. Eggsy blushed furiously, but since no one could see, no one could comment.

The date did not end when the check arrived. Instead, Daisy and Jack decided together to go wander the park. It was getting dark; Eggsy and Harry quietly gathered their equipment and got ready to follow.

“Well. That went well,” Eggsy commented grudgingly.

“There’s still time,” Harry pointed out, but he didn’t really mean it.

Daisy was happy. That was all that mattered.


	24. Hartwin 16 Calf-Eyes

Prompt: Harry and Eggsy playing footsie and looking at each other like the biggest fools in love in totally inappropriate situations.

* * *

“Can you please stop?” Roxy hisses as Eggsy props his chin in his hand and grins foolishly. Harry has more decorum, but he still gives Eggsy sidelong glances that leave no room for interpretation.

“Hmm?” Eggsy tears his eyes away with a woeful sigh and turns to Roxy. “Stop what?”

“Stop mooning over each other for half a minute and pay attention,” she replies crisply, curling her fingers around the stem of her glass, but not raising it to her lips. Now that she has Eggsy’s reluctant attention, she returns pointedly to watching the crowd, with a quick glare at Harry, one table over. He, at least, manages to regain some professionalism.

The three of them are attempting a simple reconnaissance, which is going to be ruined if Harry (who started it) and Eggsy (who won’t let it end) don’t stop it and act like adults. Roxy wishes she weren’t always forced to be the adult in these situations.

“Merlin, what’s the ETA of the target?” she murmurs, adjusting her glasses.

“Fifteen minutes. Will you kick Eggsy for me, please?”

With pleasure, Roxy thinks to herself, and kicks Eggsy’s leg. He yelps, quietly, and scowls at his plate of half-eaten salad instead of making eyes at Harry. Roxy’s quick glance confirms that Harry has also looked away, paying attention to his companions. While Eggsy and Roxy are on a “date”, Harry is with the tailors, talking shop. They, therefore, are simply aggrieved and amused at Harry and Eggsy’s antics.

Roxy sighs and finally sips her wine. It’s going to be a long fifteen minutes.


	25. 00Q 07: Kitten

Prompt: Bond brings Q a kitten.

* * *

 

Q gasps quietly and reaches out to stroke the little fuzzball with shaky fingers. “You didn’t,” he whispers.

“I most certainly did,” James answers smugly, and hands the kitten over. Q cradles the baby to his chest, letting the tiny teeth needle his fingers. “I found her on the streets and thought of you.”

“She’s so _fluffy_ ,” Q breathes.

James smirks. “Just like a certain quartermaster I know,” he teases.

“Don’t be an arse.” But it’s obvious that he’s too enchanted to be properly annoyed. The kitten, meanwhile, has decided to stop trying to suckle a human finger and is now mewling forcefully. “She’s hungry.”

“Luckily, I bring offerings of food as well.” James lifts a bag from the nearest pet shop and tries to hand it over; Q is watching the kitten though, rocking her gently, murmuring soothingly. The mewls become less insistent, but still grumpy. James sighs and sets about opening one of the tins of kitten-food.

“What should we name her?”

James raises an eyebrow. “We?”

“Yes.” Q glares at him, blushing hard. “We. You’re the one who brought her.”

James smiles. “How about “Cherie”?”

Q smiles back. “Cherie is good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes that was an Ordinary Numbers reference. :P


	26. 00Q 08 Propose

Prompt: Bond or Q proposing to each other.

* * *

 

Q hid the little box in his pocket and stepped out into the hustle and bustle of the street. He slid into the traffic of the pavement easily, and made good time to the museum.

He’d chosen the museum because it was quiet and had the memory of their first meeting. He wanted to erase that cold, analytical memory with something more… positive.

He was sure James would say yes. He was _sure_.

James was already there, standing in front of the painting. Q was again struck by how beautiful he was, and swallowed hard. Casually, with no hesitation, he crossed the floor and stood beside James, looking at the painting.

“Hauled away for scrap,” James murmured, perhaps fondly, sneaking his arm around Q’s waist and pulling him close. Q let him, though this meant that James’ hand, resting on Q’s hip, was perilously close to his pocket, and The Box. “Remember that?”

“Like it was yesterday,” Q replied softly, matching his volume.

It had been two years since James returned from his stint as a normal human being, and everyone at MI6 knew, and kept their mouths shut, about the Quartermaster and his agent. Even M didn’t mind anymore. And today, Q wanted to make it official. Wanted to tie that last string. And James would say yes. Wouldn’t he?

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Really?” Q asked, trying for casual, only sounding uncertain.

“Really.” James kissed Q’s cheek lightly. “You’re going to tell me why you have a ring-box in your pocket. Is that right?”

Q blushed furiously and resolutely stared at the painting instead of James, who laughed softly–damn that laugh–and fished the box out of Q’s pocket. He flipped it open with his thumb, still with his arm around Q, and eyed the silver ring studded with diamonds.

“Who’s this for? Looks a little big for you.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Q muttered, grabbed the box, whirled to face James, and blurted, “I’m not getting down on one knee because that’s ridiculous but you’re going to marry me, right? Because I–” He stuttered to a halt as James began to laugh again. People were staring. James took the box from Q and removed the ring, sliding it on as if he did such things every day. Then he kissed Q deeply, wrapping his arms around him so tight Q’s lungs ached, but it was the best ache in the world.

“Of course I’m going to marry you,” James murmured. “Bent knee or not. I love you.”

Q smiled and kissed back.


	27. 00Q 09 Kidnapped

Prompt: Bond gets kidnapped and Q works to save him.

* * *

 

“You absolute _idiot_!”

But he’s talking into nothing and he knows it. His fingers fly over the keyboard, his eyes never leaving the screens on the walls. The entirety of Q-branch has erupted, papers flurrying, people running, voice talking all at once, as Q fights to track his agent.

007′s been taken. And no one’s sure if they can get him back.

~

Q gets a read on where James has been, but not where he _is_. He sends minions to M with sharp reports every hour, and M sends them back with the message that Bond isn’t the priority.

“Like fuck he isn’t!” Q snarled the first time a minion returned with the unread reports. “He has important information! Send 006 to track down the smugglers, _he’s_ perfectly capable!”

“Eh-eh-M s-s-said 006 is still in Psych,” the minion stuttered.

“All the more reason to send him out, before he kills someone.”

He then apologised for traumatizing the minion and gave them a box of tea for their nerves.

But he doesn’t stop searching. And why should he? Bond has sensitive information, information not even M knows about, that can make or break everything. It’s almost as bad as Quantum, Silva, Spectre. Almost–but not quite.

That doesn’t mean Q shouldn’t do everything in his power to save Bond’s well-formed arse.

Q sits at his desk for two days and one night, surviving on caffeine and vitamins, searching feverishly. Eventually, he gets a lead; a pattern, a glimpse from a Google Earth update photo, three possible kidnappers. All of these things he passes on to 006.

“You’re a bloody genius.”

“Just bring him home, Trevelyan.”

He scrambles and jams, hacks and encrypts, tears technology and programs apart ruthlessly, and eventually, he has it. The key. The secret Bond’s been carrying for Q.

He immediately calls M.

~

It’s not a happy reunion–not on the surface. No one expects Bond to end up in a wheelchair, of all things, while his knee heals (it hadn’t been shattered, but it was a near thing). And no one expects him to come down to Q branch and meekly take Q’s tongue-lashing.

And no one expects Q to actually look and sound _worried_ for him.

But then, suddenly, in the middle of Q’s tirade about being more careful and not losing equipment and being fast enough to dodge baseball bats to the knee, Bond smiles and asks, “Do I get a kiss then or not?”

“A k–you expect a _kiss_ after the scare you gave me?!” Q snarls, looming over Bond. “You–you complete _arse_!”

“Is that a no?”

“ _No_ , it’s not a no, you bastard!” And Q leans down and kisses him smack on the lips.


	28. Hartwin 17 Argue

Prompt: how about harry and eggsy having to pretend to be an arguing couple/breaking up for a mission? (humorous or angsty…you choose!)

* * *

 

“Do we hafta?” Eggsy asks nervously.

“Yes,” Harry replies, tone and face regretful. They’re cuddling on the couch in the private jet; they won’t get a chance again for another few days, and Eggsy is needy. That doesn’t mean Harry doesn’t have separation anxiety as well, he’s just better at hiding it. He kisses Eggsy deeply, for the last time, he tells himself; just like the last five times. He needs to stop doing this. They only have half an hour til they land.

“How long do we have?” Eggsy croaks, eyes feverish, panting far more than a kiss would warrant.

Harry’s hand finds its way to Eggsy’s crotch. “More than enough,” he murmurs, and leans in for another kiss.

“Ahem.”

They both jump, Harry immediately moving his hand to Eggsy’s knee, as if that’s any better. Merlin quirks one eyebrow at them, but maintains a stern expression. “Remember your covers?” he demands, looking them both in the eye in turn. “Harry, you’re a billionaire tired of your current company–”

“Never,” Harry murmurs in Eggsy’s ear.

“–And Eggsy, you’re his boyfriend who’s jealous of the attention he pays others, but you don’t actually love him,” Merlin plowed on, bending a baleful eye on both of them.

“No need to pretend jealousy, bruv,” Eggsy growls, and Harry’s breath catches. He loves when Eggsy gets protective.

“But whatever you do, _do not let them know you’re togethe_ r.”

“Yes, we understand,” Harry sighs.

“Good,” Merlin grunts.

~

It’s embarrassing. Embarrassing, but such juicy gossip. James Duvere and his bedwarmer, Gary Baker, are having a heated argument in whispers over lunch, generously provided by the gathering’s host. At one point, Duvere actually stands up and walks away, leaving Baker fuming in his seat, watching jealously as Duvere strikes up a conversation with someone young and pretty.  
  
Carol Greenbee attempts a flirtation with Baker, and immediately the younger man is all smiles and attention. Greenbee is, understandably, delighted, and soon they’re sipping champagne together. The gossipmongers whisper excitedly behind their hands, especially when a few eyes catch Duvere glaring at Baker.

It’s an angry, charged atmosphere between the two of them. They flirt outrageously with everyone except each other, obviously trying to one-up each other. The few times they are seated next to each other, the disgust and antipathy roll off them in waves.

“Maybe they’re both looking for someone new,” a hopeful whispers.

“Not likely,” grunts a cynic. “They probably had an argument and are just waiting to make it up in bed.” A polite way of saying “fuck it out”.

Dinner comes round. They’re still arguing, still quietly, but it’s hisses and snarls rather than mutters and whispers. Finally, Baker just up and leaves the room entirely. Greenbee quietly excuses himself and goes after him. Duvere looks positively livid.

The night ends uneasily, as everyone waits for the inevitable shouting match in the guest suite upstairs.

~

“I _hate_ fighting with you,” Eggsy mumbles into Harry’s chest.

“I know, darling,” Harry murmurs, stroking Eggsy’s hair. “Me too.”

“I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”

“I didn’t either. It’s alright, my love. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

~

It climaxes the next day at lunch, when Baker starts shouting. Duvere tries to talk him down, but it doesn’t work, and–and those are _tears_ in Baker’s eyes. Greenbee tries to intervene on Baker’s side, but Lady Catherine comes in on Duvere’s, and then the whole room is quietly divided, with the largest portion sympathetic to Baker, who is now actually crying as he shouts about how Duvere is always leaving him behind and finding someone better. Not to say that there is no one taking Duvere’s side, with him sharply reminding Baker that their arrangement is strictly business and he’d thank him to remember that.

Eventually Greenbee leads a sobbing, still-hollering Baker out of the dining room, and Duvere stands alone, breathing very slowly and deeply, with the coldest eyes anyone there has ever seen.

~

They don’t cuddle that night. Eggsy cries into his pillow, silently, and Harry sleeps in the tub.

~

The third day, the last day, Baker remains dry-eyed. There is no shouting, there are no arguments. Neither of them even flirt. It seems something has happened, and they ignore each other as if they each believe the other to be invisible. Greenbee convinces Baker to dance with him; Lady Catherine distracts Duvere with a card game.

No one notices how much information the two of them are drawing out.

~

On the plane back to England, Eggsy and Harry have passionate sex and break two springs in the sofa. Merlin carefully ignores them, even when he hears Eggsy start to cry.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, please don’t leave me, I really do love you, I love you so much, please, I’m sorry–”

“Eggsy. Eggsy! Love, I’m never going to leave you. Never.” Harry wraps his arms around Eggsy tightly and hold the shivering, sobbing boy for the rest of the flight. “I’ll never leave you.”


	29. 00Q 10: Karaoke

“Eve, I really don’t think–”

“Oh come on, it’s just a few drinks.”

“And the fact that there’s a karaoke competition has nothing to do with choosing that particular bar,” Q stated dryly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Nothing whatsoever,” Eve answered, not even trying to hide the sparkle in her eye or the impish smile on her lips.

Q sighed dramatically. “I suppose I might as well come watch you sing and enchant everyone in the room,” he mused, putting on a longsuffering look.

Eve’s smile grew, and she hooked her arm with Q’s. “Come along then, darling. Let’s go out tonight.”

~

Bill and James wandered into the first bar they could find that was clean and hadn’t banned James yet, and groaned when they saw the neon-colored paper sign excitedly exclaiming that there was a karaoke competition that night.

“At least they have decent scotch,” Bill offered, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“I need at least three glasses before I’m ready to find another bar,” James growled, resisting the urge to kick off his shoes and rub his feet. Security detail was fine, but not when he had to stand through a four-hour meeting completely stationary so as not to distract anyone for Very Important Business (he could still almost hear the capital letters in the boss’s voice).

Bill, who at least had gotten to sit, rubbed his back absently. “Three glasses it is,” he agreed. “First round’s on me.”

“You’re a saint.”

“I know.”

~

“Eve, I don’t wannaaaaa,” Q whined, trying not to drop the fruity drink Eve had convinced him to try as said devil dragged him to the stage.

“You got a voice like an angel, you gotta do one song with me,” Eve ordered briskly, with only a hint of a slur in her voice. She marched them both up to the stage, checked that their names were on the list (so _that’s_ what she’d been doing when she went to the loo), and stepped up, bringing Q with her. He had to set his drink down on a nearby table first, startling the occupants.

But then they were on stage, the lights were on them, and Q froze.

Eve’s arm linked with his, and she handed him a microphone. Contact with a friend broke the wave of panic, and Q took a deep steadying breath as the first notes of the song came on.

Eve’s part was first: “I don’t like walkin’ around this old and empty house.”

Q’s turn, he wasn’t a beat late: “So hold my hand, I’ll walk with you, my dear.”

“The stairs creak as I sleep, they’re keeping me awake.”

“It’s the house telling you to close your eyes.”

It was a song they had sung together many hundreds of times, and as they sang through it again, Q felt relaxed, confident, more ready. Eve flashed him a triumphant grin; he wrinkled his nose at her. This was… fun.

~

James and Bill were soused and knew it. They also didn’t care. It was easy to ignore the horrible singers when there was alcohol to drink, and when good people sang they paused their whinging to watch with mild, pleasant surprise.

There were two particularly good ones who looked to be together, a beautiful young woman and a beautiful young man, both of whom could’ve ranged in age between twenty and thirty. After a while of watching, though, James decided they must be just friends. It was the _way_ they were comfortable with each other, not the fact itself.

“Don’t tell me. You fancy her,” Bill noted dryly.

“Guess again,” James murmured, draining his scotch and standing, making sure his jacket was straight.

“James, you’re not seriously–! Not after Ronson!”

“Precisely because of Ronson.”

And James sailed across the bar.

~

Q was gulping water and trying to convince Eve to do the same when the attractive older man swaggered up their table and smiled right at him. Q immediately looked to Eve, who stood and draped herself over Q like a loving octopus.

“Sorry, sweetheart, this one’s mine,” she told the man, smiling carelessly.

“I doubt it,” he said bluntly, startling both Eve and Q. “But still.” He nodded to them both, smiled again, and walked away.

“I don’t like flirting,” Q muttered, distressed. The man really had been quite attractive, but in an extremely intimidating way.

“I know, darling.” Eve kissed his cheek. “Come on, let’s get you home.”


	30. 00Q: Hitchhiker

James was definitely miserable, because when he saw the hitchhiker he slowed the car, rolled down the window, and asked, “Need a ride?”

The hitchhiker looked at him calculatingly from behind rain-streaked glasses, his expression calm and flat. His anorak was filthy, the battered rucksack over his shoulders no better. At least his hair looked clean. As did the laptop bag at his hip.

“Yes, please, that would be lovely,” the hitchhiker replied.

And that was how James found himself talking to a solemn-faced young man who _listened_ , actually _listened_. Not that James didn’t return the favor (the young man was Q, he was on a cross-country hike, he had a family that he loved and didn’t mind bragging about), but it was an amazing relief to have someone listen to James for once.

He’d just come back from a company party, which he hadn’t been allowed to enjoy because he was the boss’s security for the duration of said party. He’d been treated like a deaf, dumb rock, not a human being with ideas and a brain and a soldier’s sense telling him that something was wrong. He’d been subtly insulted, openly discussed, and eyed for consumption by numerous people. He was done with it all.

“I’m turning in my two weeks’ notice tomorrow,” James growled, hands tightening on the steering wheel as he peered through the windscreen, the glass lashed with rain. The wipers could barely keep up. “No more of this. I’m done.”

Q was silent for a moment. Then he asked casually, “What’s your boss’s email?”

“What?”

“Your boss’s email. I’m… something of a hacker. And I like to get revenge on people.” Q’s eyes glittered behind his glasses as his face turned hard and sharp and somewhat gleeful. “I can ruin his life for you.”

James was miserable. So he gave Q his boss’s email address, and listened as Q listed all the pros and cons of ferrets as pets. There was something trustworthy about Q. Something secretive, but friendly. Or maybe James was being an idiot again.

At the next hotel, James dropped Q off. It was still raining. Before he got out, Q whipped out a pen and a tiny notepad, wrote down a number, and handed it to James.

“Text me when he’s ruined,” Q ordered, with a hint of smile.

James nodded. “Thank you,” he said, because there was nothing else he could say.

“You’re welcome. And thank you for the ride.” Q smiled fully now, and something in James’ chest relaxed. Before he could say anything else, Q had exited the vehicle and was walking up to the hotel. James waited until he was inside, then drove away.

~~~

The next day, an important business firm was hacked, and the personal information of its execs and CEOs was leaked to multiple news outlets. Not to mention evidence of shady dealings, corruption, and a plot from within to assassinate the leader of the ring. The leader happened to be James’ boss.

James texted Q, and they went out for a celebratory dinner.

“I’ll make sure the police leave you alone,” Q promised James. “I’m good at that, too.”

“How? Why? Were you already planning on hitting them? Am I just a chance meeting? Or did you plan our meeting, too?”

Q gave a secretive smile and sipped his drink. “Maybe I just like you. Ever think of that?”

James grinned. “Alright, keep your secrets. God knows everyone has a few.”

Q smiled wider.


	31. Hartwin 18: Children Come Calling

“Dad? You home?”

“Father?”

“Paa-paaa…”

The triplets, Susan, Riley, and Mitchell, all eased through the door, confused. Usually their father would be there to greet them, and maybe offer them tea (or scotch, if he’d had a bad day at work). But not today, apparently.

The three all put their hands to their knives, and in complete silence, communicated that they would split up. Mitchell and Susan took the downstairs; Riley started up the steps, keeping close to the wall. Soon, the three had begun their sweep.

Riley’s yelp called zir’s siblings immediately, and brother and sister nearly collided attempting to race upstairs; Riley was already flying down to them, a look of pure horror on zir face.

“He’s got someone with him!” Riley wheezed, “A man!”

Susan and Mitchell stared in astonishment. Dad/father/papa had _never_ had a boyfriend, not that they knew of. “What exactly did you see?” Susan demanded urgently.

“They were naked–-papa had him against the wall, I think they were–-but he couldn’t have been more than twenty-seven!”

“Twenty-seven–”

“Ah. Um. Hello, children.”

The grown children slowly looked up.

Harry Hart, dad/father/papa, was standing at the head of the stairs in nothing more than a robe and slippers. He also had several lovebites on his neck, an eye-patch, and an uncomfortable expression.

“I… forgot you were coming today,” he said.

“We were coming tomorrow,” Mitchell corrected automatically.

“We… we thought we’d surprise you,” Susan added weakly.

“Well, you’ve done that,” dad/father/papa responded, seeming to relax a little. “Ah. Care to wait in the dining room? I’ll be right down.”

~~~

“Children, this is my fiance, Eggsy.”

“Hullo,” Eggsy mumbled.

Susan, Riley, and Mitchell stared. This… _boy_ was easily ten years young than them. And he was dad/father/papa’s fiance?

“How?” Riley finally said.

Eggsy’s uneasy expression became quite fierce, but dad/father/papa put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and he subsided.

“We… work together,” dad/father/papa answered. “I was his recruiter, actually.”

“Mum still hasn’t forgiven you,” Eggsy murmured, and dad/father/papa flashed a tiny smile. A smile. None of the triplets had seen him smile since the divorce, over thirty years ago.

But still…

“You can’t get married,” Mitchell protested. “What about mother?”

The smile vanished, the familiar cold expression returned, and the triplets all heaved silent sighs of relief, that something was proceeding as normal. “What about her?” dad/father/papa asked coldly.

“What about what she thinks?”

“She can think what she likes,” dad/father/papa replied in clipped tones. “I don’t care anymore.”

The triplets stared, astonished. Eggsy, the bugger, was beaming.

“That’s my Harry,” he whispered.


End file.
